


When Last I Spoke to You

by Vortaesthetic



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 06:15:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12551004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vortaesthetic/pseuds/Vortaesthetic
Summary: When Odo closes his eyes on Cardassia, he dreams of the dead.





	When Last I Spoke to You

Odo retreated back to his bucket for the night, The resistance cell getting the last snatches of sleep in this dusty Cardassian cavern before the grand finale got underway–and that would be soon. He could hear the intermittent drip of water from a stalactite in the larger chamber down the hall, a lone oasis in this dry, dark tunnel. There was a skittering noise he could hear, likely some manner of bat. Between the apprehension of what was to come and the chorus of endless low sounds, Odo found it hard to sleep, but eventually he got there.

The sun was blindingly bright, shining directly into the bedroom. There was a cool, dry breeze filtering in through the open windows of the home, lightly ruffling the gauzy white curtains that dressed them on either side. There was not a speck of dust to be found in this home. It was decorated in a way that was simple and neat, but strangely devoid of any evidence of life. A single sunflower sat in a vase on the wooden table, its colors vibrant and unburdened with a single blemish. There were places set at this great table for many guests, but none were here.

The air is still and quiet. Unnaturally silent. Odo wanders through the house in search of someone, anyone. He goes through room after room and nobody is there. Each door he opens, it’s just an empty room. There are no pictures. No personal effects. It’s unnerving and he doesn’t know what it means. 

He barely picks up the whisper of a sound, a sound like a child’s giggle. It’s coming from nearby. He follows it like a hound, taking to four paws in his haste to locate the source. The door opens before him of its own volition, he doesn’t even have to open it. He is swallowed in the light that surges through the door.

The dream should end here. He’s had this dream every night for the past month and he always jerks awake when he drowns in the flood of lights…but this time, it does not. He blinks hard and he is outside the house. And he is now no longer alone.

There is a child on the soft, trimmed grass of the lawn, playing alone with a ball, but looking as if they are having all the fun in the world. The child with striking blonde hair and brown eyes tosses a red ball in the air and giggles, spinning to make themselves dizzy before the ball comes back down to earth. The child misses, stumbling down into the fresh grass, but is not hurt. The child spots Odo and waves at him. “There’s so much I want to show you,” the child squeals excitedly. “I was going to teach you how to be a Tarkalean Hawk!”

Both the ball and the child suddenly melt down into puddles of rippling gold until they rose again, taking new forms. Two Founders now stand before him, simply staring at him, smiling. Something in Odo tells him that they are not asking to link. They are looking at him as if they have seen a long-lost friend.

Odo finds himself walking down the hill and finds a Jem’Hadar at a stand of trees. He is young and strong. His black hair flows free in the wind. He has no tube for the white anymore. He is hunting, but his quarry has fled and he has not given pursuit.

The Jem’Hadar turns to Odo, as if he has always known that he was standing there. “Am I your enemy?” he asks cryptically before he walks off into the treeline. Odo is puzzled. He continues down his path again before he even realizes that he is walking.

It is not long before he sees someone else. Ziyal is sitting on a low wall nearby and is painting the garden down the hill with oils and canvas. She smiles and waves, but says nothing. Odo can’t approach her. Try as he might, he cannot talk to her either.

He comes up to the garden; lush, bright, well-tended. He hears movement in the plants and moves through the rows to locate the source of the sound. He sees Weyoun, plucking weeds from freshly-tilled soil. The clothes that he is wearing are spotless. His hands are too, despite digging in the dirt. This does not make sense. turns to Odo with a smile on his face, as if he’s been talking to Odo all along. He wears a smile on his face, warm and genuine as he walks up to Odo. His skin is unblemished, his face unlined, his eyes bright. The veins that had marred his face in death were now nowhere to be seen. He holds a basket of white lilies in his hands. Six crows fly low overhead, heading east toward the rising sun.

“You have my gratitude…and my blessing,” Weyoun says, a beatific smile on his face. He looks like he wants to say more, but he can’t. He doesn’t bow, doesn’t genuflect in Odo’s absence at all. He stands tall as he hands Odo the basket, and reluctantly turns away, going back to his work. Odo finds his feet walking him away, taking him back up the hill against his will. He calls back to Weyoun, but it’s almost as if he cannot hear him.

He hears Jadzia’s voice as he nears the cottage again. He could recognize the lilt and tone of her speech anywhere, but can’t make out individual words for some reason as he draws closer.

Jadzia appears as he crosses the threshhold, turning to smile at him. A radio is playing somewhere, the strident tones of Klingon opera filtering through the home. She holds an unopened bottle of kanar and an empty glass in her hands.

“Goodbye,” she says, and everything turns white.

He feels like he’s falling suddenly and jerks awake with a start, sloshing out of his bucket to the sounds of distant explosions. The Cardassian rebels are hurriedly preparing for battle and Nerys is barking out orders. They will be moving out soon. The final battle will begin shortly.

Odo can’t seem to remember much of the dream, but he feels lighter somehow. And when they stepped out under Cardassia’s hot, bright sun, something about the burn felt cathartic. He knew that he was about to wade into death and amorality, but for the moment he felt clean.


End file.
